A Little Patch Of Vermeer
by Scribbler66
Summary: Love, in Harry's case, means having to say you're sorry. Quite a lot actually. Possible spoiler. Set just after end of series 9  forgive typo at top of chappie  First ever fan fic! COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Sadly I don't own any of the characters of Spooks – that honour goes to Kudos and the BBC. I just wanted to take them out and play with them a bit.

Set after the end of series eight. Possible spoiler.

A Little Patch of Vermeer

Chapter One

He looked as if someone had scraped all the tiredness in the world together and poured it into a suit.

His face was pale, what little hair he had was askew, and he paused at the top step to take in the grid, all leave cancelled, three people to every station, the bustling and shouting more in keeping with a trading floor than a government office, and he stepped gingerly onto the floor and heading for his office, unnoticed by the throng.

Well almost…

"Harry?"

He quickened his pace without looking back.

"Harry!" She repeated, breaking into a trot.

"Ruth" he barked, not turning his head, "Believe me nothing has changed since our last conversation eight minutes ago in the car!"

He disappeared through a doorway to his left and she followed him in without knocking and stopped in the entrance, arms folded, and watched him shrug off his jacket, pour himself a large whisky, and perch on the edge of his desk.

"There" she said, eyes narrowing "You did it again."

He took a long gulp, savouring the burn before answering.

"Did what?"

"Winced." She said "You're hurt."

"It's nothing."

"Define nothing."

Paying more attention to the contents of his glass than to her, he waved a hand in bland admission

"The blast threw someone onto someone and onto me and I landed on a crash barrier." He drained his glass. "Cracked a couple of ribs. I've had worse."

"Have you been to hospital?"

Easing off his desk he refilled his tumbler. "They're a bit busy right now" he said "apparently a bloody great bomb just went off in central London. Now…" He nodded toward the entrance "I'm expecting a call".

Ruth ignored both his sarcasm and the personal semaphore they'd developed over the years and stayed put, considering her options.

"I'll send for Doctor Shore." She said with practised resignation "He'll give you something for the pain. But if a bone splinter gets into your blood stream, that close to the heart..." she glanced toward his glass "Are you sure you should be drinking that if you're about to take painkillers?"

Harry gave her the kind of look he usually reserved for Home Secretary's' and pointedly took a swig.

"Right." Said Ruth "Of course" and turned on her heels to leave.

He called after her, his voice softer, less barbed. "Ruth?"

"Yes?" she said through clenched teeth.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For caring enough to be furious with me" he said, adding hopefully "and being kind enough not to do anything about it."

He even threw in a conciliatory smile. No dice.

"We'll talk about this later Harry, yes?"

He nodded uncertainly as his phone buzzed into life and she left.

"Prime Minister!" he said, and a very long night began.

The trouble with intelligence, Harry reminded himself some hours later, was that you never got praise for the atrocities you prevented merely condemnation for the ones you didn't. Call followed call followed call and as the casualty list grew, so did the universal outrage and the clamour for revenge, and try as he might, passing off the days' events as a partial success, without license to reveal Nightingales plans for, as Ruth put it, 'controlled holocaust' was proving more than a little sticky.

And into the information gap poured the internet, untrammelled by context, unbothered by fact, spewing forth cabalistic conspiracies that added to the chaos he had to deal with.

Pausing he turned off his phone and rubbed his face with both hands. His chest was killing him, he couldn't get comfortable and the liquor was nearly gone. Pouring out the last of it he held the glass aloft.

"Ros."

He hadn't allowed himself to think about her until this moment, knowing that she, above everyone else, would understand. He still had concrete dust on his trousers, dust from her demise and he brushed it off like it was sadness. They were both soldiers, it was what bound them together beyond the usual pseudo familial relationships you find in organisations. She was his Captain not his daughter, brave loyal, utterly determined with just the right amount of contempt for death necessary for a first class field agent. Not that soldiers want to die of course, they don't, but if they do, they want to die 'expensive' – taking as many of the bastards with them as they can, secure in the rightness of the cause.

The realisation that he'd never see her again didn't yet cause him pain, in fact it merely added to the numbness weighing down his better centre. He tried comforting himself with the idea that if there were a Valhalla, then she'd have already hooked up with Adam and was probably arguing with Odin about now, but as his thoughts began to drift to memories of Zaf Jo, Danny and Colin. All of them dead on his watch. Was the world a better place for their absence?

"Plus ça change" he sighed.

"May I?"

Harry jolted back to the present, and swore.

"That would be the ribs then I take it?" said the tall thin man laying his black bag on Harry's desk. "Let me take a look"

Harry closed the blinds and reluctantly unbuttoned his shirt as Doctor Shore snapped on some blue gloves.

"I don't want a rib band" said Harry firmly.

"Then you're in luck, I don't think I have one big enough" said Doctor Shore, reminding Harry why he irritated him so.

"Can we leave the 'you're fat' conversation to my annual medical?" said Harry but Doctor Shore just ignored him, and carried on pressing his stethoscope over his torso monitoring his breathing.

"Actually you're in luck. You may be on the fast track to a heart attack but a thinner man's ribs would've snapped like twigs. Your padding saved you."

He probed his left flank with practised hands, and as Harry cursed, Dr Shore shook his head.

"Still nasty though. Three cracks, one possible break, luckily they're lower ribs but you need an x-ray which I can see you have no intention of getting, so all I can do is give you something for the pain and advise you to go home and rest."

He handed him a small bottle of pills, and Harry shook it.

"Is that all?"

"Two days worth. I shouldn't be giving you anything with the amount you've had to drink. This way, you'll have to see me again."

"Oh good."

Doctor Shore shut his bag signifying the consult was over.

"Expect to feel tired and dizzy, maybe experience the odd headache, but if your breathing becomes worse, or pain concentrates around the heart, dial 999 and tell them to hurry."

"Anything else?"

"Yes." His tone shifted. "I'm sorry about Ros. She was a fine officer."

Harry accepted his commiserations with a nod.

"Thank you."

"Terrible patient, but a fine officer. Can't think where she got it from. Good night Harry."

"Thank you Peter"

He left and Harry turned on his phone. It rang instantly.

"Plus c'est la même chose" he sighed.

By two in the morning Harry's head ached, his chest was agonising and whether he was dizzy from the injury or the cocktail of single malt and painkillers he couldn't say, but in the middle of this mental fog, Harry realised he was talking to the Canadian Ambassador, and had no idea why.

"Mr Ambassador, I'm going to have to get back to you on that one" he said curtailing the conversation, and groaning.

"Oh God…"

"I've called your car, it'll be ready in five minutes" said Ruth from the doorway.

Embarrassed to have been caught off guard, he snapped "I'm sorry?"

"You're no good to anybody in this state. You need to go home."

"Have you been talking to Dr Shore?"

"I don't need to, I can see you from my desk. The pain is the only thing that's keeping you awake."

"I'll go home when I decide to" he said "and not a moment sooner."

He tried leaning back in his chair, but his imperious manner was somewhat ruined by his yelping with pain.

She didn't say anything, merely looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"You're right" he conceded brushing away her offers of help and slowly getting to his feet. "But if I have to go home, then so do you."

"I've got work to do."

"I want you on your game tomorrow, so I'm telling you, go home, now." he said

"You can't just order me to go home"

"I think you'll find I can" he said re-asserting his flagging authority.

"No, I mean you can't because there aren't any cars." She said padding along beside him as he headed for the pods. "And cabs are off limits until they've been re-cleared. I'm booked to leave at four with two people from nights."

"Four?" said Harry. "No, no no, you're coming with me, Mike can drop you off afterwards."

"I'll wait my turn" insisted Ruth.

"No" said Harry "You'll do as you're told."

Hell hath no fury like a smart women being ordered about, and after fixing Harry with a withering look, and under public scrutiny by all and sundry, she stomped over to her desk, gathered her things, and marched through the pods without giving him a second glance.

Harry followed, his pride assailed by the horrible feeling that 'later' was going to happen sooner than he'd hoped.

"Bugger" he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Sadly I don't own any of the characters of Spooks – that honour goes to Kudos and the BBC. I just wanted to take them out and play with them a bit.

Thank you for the reviews – very kind very encouraging. Just so you know, this all popped into my head pretty much intact, and there'll be five chapters, not all of them happy. Oh yes, there's angst to come – buckets and buckets of it…

Set after the end of series nine. Possible spoiler.

Chapter Two

The November breeze was crisp and cold as they left Thames House, and Ruth thought she could smell burning in the air. The car pulled up and they got into the back and despite the obvious tension, Ruth hadn't been outside since she'd arrived at work yesterday and so rather than taking Harry to task, she sat wide eyed, staring out of the window, twisting her hands at the procession of ambulances and fire engines, and, new to this crisis, military vehicles that shuttled past them, sirens blaring, lights flashing, the visceral evidence of a city under attack, understanding in way that she hadn't at her desk, that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

Harry meanwhile just wanted to get home.

"Mike, show them the bloody badge" he snapped, and the policeman on traffic duty lifted the tape and let them through.

The calls kept coming. If it wasn't the 'how are we going to keep the stock market open squad', it was the British Way, picking up on the Indian/Pakistan element and stirring up trouble, while the PM's office wanted his new Home Secretary's security clearance rushed through on a promise, and as soon as Harry batted one problem away, another was lobbed in his direction, and, nauseous with pain, dizzy with fatigue, his critical faculties hanging by a thread, he felt like a tail end batter having a very bad day.

Ruth never so much as looked at him. When they stopped outside his house, Harry finished the call he was on, watched at her staring out of the window, and got out without a saying a word.

"Mike." She said "Take me home, please."

But the car didn't move, and Ruth saw Harry holding a 'stay' hand up, while talking to his security detail. When he'd finished, he doubled back and tapped on the car window.

"Ruth?" he said and nodded towards his house "Ten minutes. Now."

Then he turned and walked up the steps.

"He did it again!" hissed Ruth "Damn him!"

Getting out she slammed the door making an audible point that Harry chose to ignore as he let himself in, and by the time she'd apologised to Mike and joined him, he was in his front room, kicking off his shoes, undoing his shirt and pouring himself a drink.

"Alright" he said before she could start "Get it out."

"Get what out?"

"You obviously have some deep seated need to tell me I'm an idiot and shout at me or whatever" he said "So get it out, or you won't sleep tonight, and I need you on top form tomorrow."

"Don't be glib Harry!"

"Well, that's a start."

"I mean it."

"Keep going." He said sipping his drink.

"Is this a game to you Harry? Some great big stupid let's just see if we can get killed at random and find it funny afterwards if we survive, because aren't we noble game?"

Fatigue and frustration over-rode self control and her voice rose, her face flushed and Harry let her continue.

"Ros got _killed_ Harry, other people got killed, bystanders got killed, what makes you think you're so bloody special? You're not invincible you know, you're not even young any more."

Still Harry didn't react.

"It's one thing to get hurt in the line of duty, but to go out of your way to put yourself in danger is not just stupid, it's selfish. After the bomb went off, comms went down for forty seven minutes. _Forty seven minutes_ Harry when we, I, didn't know whether you were dead or alive! And all we could see on the news was devastation. How dare you! First George, then Jo, and now Ros. I won't stick around and see you put in a box because your pride demands it Harry, I just won't."

He walked toward her, palms up, a pacifying gesture intended to draw things to a close.

"At least I didn't get shot!"

"Don't make fun of me!" she said and pushed him away.

She knew the moment she did it, it was exactly the wrong thing to do…

"Ribs!" gasped Harry the colour draining from his face. "Ribs!"

Her panic was instant and voluble.

"Oh my God! Harry I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, oh God oh God I'm sorry, what do you want me to do. I'm so sorry."

Sweat pouring down his chest, Harry backed away from her, arms out protecting himself.

"Do you want me to call an ambulance? Can I get you anything? Stupid stupid, I'm so sorry,…I'm so sorry."

Ruth ducked through a series of doors until finding the kitchen, she emerged with a glass of water, handing it to Harry, now leaning against the back of the sofa, his face contorted in pain, trying not to howl.

"I'm so sorry Harry, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry, I was being so –"

"Please" he whispered. The do shut up was implied.

"Sorry."

The room plunged into welcome silence broken only by Harry's laboured wheezing and the clock ticking in the hall. He sat stock still, eyes shut, focusing on his breathing and after a minute or so, Ruth sat next to him, and laying a hand on his forearm and finding it not rebuffed, did what any good recent mother of an eight year old would do, and started rubbing his back.

Slowly but surely the crisis peaked and the pain began receding and Ruth's relief was almost as intense as his own.

"Do you want me to call Dr Shore?"

"Dear God no." he said, discovering adrenalin had over ridden the anaesthetics and his mind now posessed a peculiar, if distant, clarity. Ruth however was breaking down.

"I shouldn't have done it" she said, eyes reddening "I shouldn't have lost my temper, I had no right, I'm sorry Harry it won't -

"Ruth" he interrupted "I know this will probably come as a shock to you, but I've been shouted at by women before."

He waited until she returned his smile.

"Although you do have the distinction of being the only one to get angry because I put myself in harms way rather than actively wishing me hurt."

"But I did hurt you, and I'm sorry."

"Yes, well" he drew in a long slow breath "if you're going you're going to continue in this relationship…"

Ruth shifted, her face taking on a different kind of flush.

"Harry" she said awkwardly "we're not..."

"In a relationship?"

"I mean we're not, we haven't," she stammered "We've never– "

"Slept together" he offered and she nodded.

"I'd noticed" He sighed, his voice tinged with a regret so pure it almost acquired atomic weight.

"Nevertheless" he said, "It's four in the morning, you're in my front room, you've just finished shouting at me, and now you're rubbing my back – don't stop by the way it's helping – I wouldn't let anyone else from the grid do that."

"Not even Malcolm?"

Harry laughed, pleased to see her spirit returning.

"Well, maybe Malcolm. We're in a relationship Ruth, we've been in one for years, we just don't quite know what it is yet, yes?

She nodded and on this slight permission he continued.

"So you need to know" he said calmly and matter of factly "I love you very much."

He laid his right hand over her left one stilling her objections.

"There's not a thing you can do about it" he said "and there's not a thing I can do about it either, and God knows I've tried."

He debated fleetingly with telling her about his tortuous struggles trying to work out which was more painful, the manner of her leaving, or the manner of her return, but decided on a happier tack.

"Did you know" he said "I actually feel both calmer and more excited in your presence? No, really I do. I've done a pulse test, under the table during meetings. Calmer because I trust you, and your intelligence, and your inability not to try and do the right thing, more excited, because well," he shrugged as if it were obvious "you are so very beautiful. I'm telling you, if you walked in while I was having a polygraph I'd be doomed."

He tilted his head, hoping to see her smile, but something flickered across her face and it took him a second to work it out.

"You don't believe me do you? That you're beautiful?"

"I'm fine with how I look."

"You really have no idea" he said. "Ruth there are times when I look out over the grid and all I can see is computerised madness, then you'll stand up and start talking to Tariq and the light will catch you just so, and it's like a little patch of Vermeer has opened up just for me. Then you move and pfft, it's gone. But _I _saw it."

He shook his head at the wonder of it all, and smiled.

"And you know that thing you do, when you've worked something out, and you can't wait to tell me, and you chew your lower lip, and bounce from foot to foot on the spot?"

"Yes" she said, unsure where this was going.

"Very sexy."

"Harry!" said Ruth, laughing even as she blushed.

"Thanks to you" he said " I must be the only man in the world who gets aroused by the sight of a woman concentrating. No wonder" he added, the thought just occurring to him "pornography does nothing for me."

"So, anyway…" he said, readying himself "what I'm saying is, when I tell you you have nothing to apologise for, I mean it. Now please?"

He held out his arms and Ruth helped pull him to his feet.

"I must go to bed. Tomorrow promises to be bloody. Security will lock up, Mike will drive you home."

He started towards the stairs. "Goodnight."

"I….I don't know what to say." said Ruth.

"That's alright" he said, not stopping "You're the best analyst I know, you'll work it out."

"I'll see you tomorrow Harry!"

"Good." He said. And disappeared.

(small edit...because lovely people got worried, but aw, you care...they'll be alright, really they will. Just not yet)


	3. Chapter 3

Sadly I don't own any of the characters of Spooks – that honour goes to Kudos and the BBC.

Well crikey, this took a while. Getting in enough back story to provide motivation without banging on, so you can get to the bit you care about, is harder than I thought!

Anyway, thank for the reviews, I'm only just getting to grips with the 'new chapters' procedure, so haven't found headspace to comment, but glad you're enjoying it, tho I did want to say, yes Section D, yes, Harry _hates_ pornography. (He likes sex though.)

And I know Ruth has done the bolting bit before, but I wanted to bring up the boss/worker thing because I think it's something they still have to deal with. And if set up gets draggy, there's always Dr Shore, who seems to have a life of his own…

But thank you all who've cared so far.

Chapter Three.

The next day was, as Harry anticipated, bloody. London was in shock and emergency measures introduced the night before had reduced its traffic system to a slow moving maze, and after walking the last thirty minutes of her journey, Ruth stumbled into Thames House. Not much Vermeer about today, she thought, pushing back her hair. Lucian Freud maybe.

She stepped onto the grid just as a tall man left Harry's office, and after dumping her bag at her station, intercepted him in the corridor.

"How is he?"

Dr Shore looked grim faced.

"Hello Ruth. How is he? Impossible."

She smiled. "I meant physically."

"In pain. And the two are not unrelated. He wants me to give him a jab, which I can't do unless I know the extent of the damage. And he's refusing to lie down because, and I quote 'I'm not lounging on around on a sofa handing out dictums like a bloody Roman Emperor.' Only he didn't use the word bloody."

"Well at least he's not behaving out of character."

Doctor Shore smiled, and, meeting her eyes, looked concerned.

"And how are you doing?"

"I'll live."

"Ah, Harryitus, it's catching."

He turned her toward the light and after a fleeting examination his concern increased.

"How are you sleeping?"

"It comes and goes" she said "Mostly goes. I'll be fine."

"Still having bad dreams?"

She nodded.

"I could give you something?"

"Thanks, but I've seen where that ends."

"I've seen where not doing anything ends too. Stress isn't just a fancy word for working hard, it kills people. Protect your sleep. And remember to eat something."

He checked his watch.

"I must be off. You know where I am if you need me. And try and talk some sense into him. I know…" he said with a smile "So much for avoiding stress" and he was gone.

"It feels like they're watching me" she asked Tariq as she returned to her desk. "It's unnerving. "

"Well you left with Harry last night. You know what people are like. Ignore it."

"Oh come on" said Ruth. "We weren't exactly holding hands. If anyone was paying attention they'd have seen I was furious."

"And if anyone else looked at Harry like that, they'd have left with his bootprint on their arse. Forget it, most of them are covers from section A, and a couple of pillocks from Six, they'll be gone soon."

"Ruth!" called Harry and she crossed the grid wishing she was invisible.

She entered without knocking, he was on the phone, his shirt still open, his left side dappled purple and black as if he'd been rolled in ink.

"How many times do I have to tell you, you can't have headlines and plausible deniability!" he snapped to his caller "Pick one, call me back." He hung up. "Bloody advisors".

"You got home alright last night?" he said buttoning up.

"Yes, thank you." she said. "How are you?"

He pulled out an electric shaver.

"I've got a JIC meeting in twenty."

"Doctor Shore told me to talk some sense into you."

"Just the kind of thing he would do. But of course you're too smart to try." He handed her a file and began shaving. "Syrian agent last seen in London. Received money from Nightingale, but we don't know why. I need you to liaise with Six on this."

"You can't just ignore medical advice, Harry, you need to rest and take care of yourself."

"No" said Harry firmly "I need Ros. Now I think we both have work to do?"

It was as if last night had never happened. Ruth retreated to her desk, feeling horribly alone, and opening the file, did as he suggested.

For the next few days, insomnia became both the symptom and cause of her anguish, and she spent her days dreaming of sleep and her nights dreaming of ghosts, Harry sometimes joining them, alive but dead, a ghost to be. In the flesh he was rarely there, and when he was, he was vile, compounding her unpopularity by apologising only to her, seeking her occasional comfort, but refusing all offers of help.

It came to a head, one evening, following an excruciating debrief at Six, when she was so tired she confused Levantine Arabic with Shami twice, and Sir Angus, who never tried to hide his superciliousness from the plebs, stopped her from leaving by standing just too close.

"I need you to pass on a message to Sir Harry, nothing on paper; 'Germany is on."

Ruth moved away resisting the temptation to shudder.

"I'm going home Sir Angus. Send it through channels. He'll get it within the hour."

"But if I send it through you, he'll get it sooner." He said with a knowing smile "At least that's what I've heard."

Ruth made it home in a daze. It was one thing to be teased by friends, another to be gossiped about by colleagues but to be regarded as a bit on the side by her superiors….Her heart hammered, her ears filled with white noise, and she missed all her friends at once.

After making a cup of tea she couldn't drink, Ruth gathered her senses and called Harry.

"Yes?" He said and she could hear he was in a car.

"Hello. It's me. I have a message for you. Sir Angus says Germany is on."

"Right."

There was an awkward pause.

"Can you talk?"

"No."

Ruth thought it over. "Can you listen?"

"Yes."

She took deep breath.

"Then I'm sorry Harry, but I can't do this. You'll always have my support, you know that, but I can't give you what you want. I just can't. Sorry. Harry?"

"_We're here_" said a voice and a car door opened.

"Right." he said and hung up.

Ruth put the phone down slowly. It wasn't the response she expected, but then she wasn't sure what to expect. Her stomach dropped and she shivered but at the same time, the relief was overwhelming - one less thing to worry about, one less obstacle to sleep.

Out of respect to Doctor Shore's advice she made a supper she couldn't eat, went to bed and hoped.

Buzz buzz buzz buzz. It was dark, they were in a forest, she and Adam and this vehicle… She rolled over and it started again.

Buzz buzz buzz buzz. Was that the van? Where was it from what did it mean?

Buzz buzz buzz buzz. Was that the doorbell? It sounded like morse code…

Buzz buzz buzz buzz. She held her head in her hands and swore. Four dots. Morse Code for H…

"Harry…" she groaned.

Buzz buzz buzz buzz.

She rolled out of bed, turned on the light and flinched.

Buzz buzz buzz buzz.

"Yes yes!" she pulled on slippers and a dressing gown and headed to the front door where a familiar shape was silhouetted by street light.

"Harry?"

"Let me in, it's cold."

"It's two in the morning!"

"I know" he said "That's why it's cold."

Ruth rolled her eyes, and opened the door a crack.

"Is it important?"

"It is to me." He could just make her face, pale, resolute and not a hint of humour. "Ten minutes. Please?" he added.

Ruth opened the door, and Harry followed her into the kitchen, where she turned on the cabinet lights, and they stood in a gentle glow.

"Thank you."

"Ten minutes" she said.

"Well," Harry started, shuffling awkwardly "You, I think the common parlance is 'dumped' me by phone when I couldn't answer back, and I, well, I thought maybe you'd like to give it another go now, and see what I have to say?"

Ruth covered her face with her hands. This was not what she wanted, in fact this was exactly what she was trying to avoid.

"I didn't 'dump' you Harry."

"Felt like that to me. I know I've been difficult recently…"

"No, I didn't dump you Harry because we're _not going out together_!"

Harry physically stiffened but didn't reveal anything.

"That relationship you say we're having? Well I did some analysis, and you know what that relationship is? It's called work Harry."

"It's more than that."

"Of course it is to you, you're the boss! You said that you felt calmer and more excited when I was around? Well do you want to know how I feel when you're around? I feel anxious Harry, nervous and on edge. I don't like feeling like that. In fact , the thing I most loved about George, wasn't his humour, or his conversation …"

Harry's mood dropped to grim.

"What I loved most about George was who I was when I was with him. But with you, you're always the boss. Even we went out, you booked the restaurant before asking what night I was free! And now if you're not snapping at me you're apologising…"

"Wait, you're upset because I apologise to you?"

"No, because you never apologise to anyone else, don't you get it? Harry, if you go out with me, your relationship changes with _me_. But if I go out with you, or even if people think I am, my relationship changes with _everyone_. I can't live my life on your ground Harry."

"Well we're in your kitchen now."

"Yes, but only because you came around at two in the morning uninvited!" she almost shrieked.

At the end of the tether, a pause and Harry stepped into it, his eyes down cast, and gently took her hands with his own.

"Tell me to go." He said softly "And I'll go."

The moments spent waiting for her to reply, were among the longest of Harry's life. And then...

"Jesus Harry, you're hands are like blocks of ice!" She pulled her hands away, quickly reaching up and pressing her palms to his cheeks. "You're absolutely freezing!"

"Told you it was cold" he mumbled.

"How long were you out there?" she said, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh about forty minutes" said Harry "I was sitting on your front wall, you know, planning what to say. What?"

"You mean that was a _planned_ entrance?" said Ruth trying not to laugh.

"Yes well" said Harry blushing "You should have seen the stuff I threw out."

Ruth smiled. "I'll get you a hot drink. Coffee?"

Harry nodded.

"Decaff?"

"God no."

She made his drink in companiable silence, catching his reflection in the kettle as he glanced at his watch.

"Got to be somewhere?"

"Yes. Hamburg actually. Basel related. I'm supposed be home packing, but I didn't want to leave with things as they…Oh well." The words fell away, and his eyes to the floor.

"I do still love you you know Harry." She said handing him his coffee.

He took the cup, gently pulling her into a loose embrace and kissing the top of her head. "I know" he said "I know.

Harry drank his coffee while Ruth lay against him, her face to his chest, his right arm warm and heavy over her shoulders, imperceptibly stroking the back of her neck his thumb.

"You smell of cigars."

"I was at my club."

The seconds crept quietly by their fingers to their lips, not to disturb this still point of the universe, until Harry felt her squirm.

"I'm sorry" she yawned "I'm falling asleep".

"Well that proves something I suppose" he said "You _can_ relax in my company."

Ruth smiled and looked up, expecting to see the same, but Harry had long since left the building and was staring out of the kitchen window into the empty blackness. She nudged him back into the room and when he looked at her, it was with a smile so sad it was practically in mourning.

"I must go."

He eased her away and was halfway to the door before she knew it.

"Harry?" she said, following.

"I'm sorry I disturbed you" he said doing up his coat. "Thank you for the coffee."

"Are you alright?"

"Fine" he said, in his finest military staccato, avoiding eye contact.

She took his arm and made him stand still.

"You look" she thought for a second "…Sad."

"Oh, this too shall pass." said Harry, pulling away from her scrutiny and opening the door.

"That's not an answer Harry."

"Ruth" he said, stopping on the thresh-hold "Compared to the man sitting on that wall not forty minutes ago, sad is a world of improvement. Goodnight."

She watched him walk down the path without looking back.

"And neither" she said, closing the door "Was that."

(Poor Ruth now has to play 'be careful what you wish for'…)


	4. Chapter 4

Sadly I don't own any of the characters of Spooks – that honour goes to Kudos and the BBC.

Okay, so last day of holiday (luckily weather where I am absolutely pants) will try and finish over week end….

And again, thanks for the encouraging reviews. Some of the comments have really helped me, and kept me going, and I'd like to thank a couple of people in particular, but I'm now worrying about the whole chapter process, and I can't find their names, so I'll have to do that later. But thanks, really,

I've always like watching (and reading) UST, but the thing I like about Ruth and Harry, and why I couldn't get this little fic out of my mind, is that they're not simply in love but can't admit it, but _married_ and can't admit it which I find hilarious and moving in equal measure.

So, last chapter but one - we're getting closer … wish them luck!

Chapter Four

"Excellent work Miss Evershed. What a pleasure to meet someone who exceeds expectations without being asked."

"Thank you Sir Michael."

"My thanks to your team."

Not for the first time that week, Ruth returned to her station feeling more than contented. She liked working for Sir Michael, he was professorial rather than officer class, a great deal more guarded than Harry and although she now lacked the Access All Areas she had with Harry, and had even resorted to knocking, there was, she found, comfort in formality; everyone knew where they stood. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd been asked to pass on thanks.

Best of all, now under no more pressure than to do her job correctly and go home, she had clocked up five nights of consecutive sleep, as a result of which she felt practically reborn, and as she made her way to the church around the corner to eat her lunch, she found herself humming Gluck. Ah music. How she'd missed it.

She sat on a bench surrounded by office workers and ate her sandwiches in the sunlight, and wondered how Harry was getting on.

She hoped his ribs were okay, and that he wasn't working too hard. She'd hadn't heard from him since the night he left for Hamburg which was unusual but not unknown. Not that they kept in detailed communication when he was away, but there'd normally be the odd email, sometimes a background check, more often than not something cricket related – he'd want a match recorded or to have particular newspapers aside so that he could read the reports once he got home because 'reading them online wasn't the same'. And then at the end of the request some comment about the food or the company, and the occasional snippet of gossip, always in code.

For her part she'd thought about dropping him an 'I hope you're alright?' email, but wasn't sure that it wouldn't be seen as an intrusion, and so had decided to wait until Harry came home when she could pick her moment and ask him in person. Plus, if she were being honest, she thought turning her face to the sun, she was enjoying the peace and quiet.

She finished her lunch, tearing up her remaining crusts for the insistent sparrows, and returned to the grid, where even there, things seemed to be improving.

"Well that made a nice change" she said returning from the kitchen, stirring her tea "Walking into a room, and the conversation not suddenly stopping. I almost feel wanted."

"Ah well" said Tariq. "That's because they don't think you're sleeping with Harry any more."

"Oh how nice." Said Ruth "And whom do I have to thank for that, you?"

"Nah" he said not looking up from his screen "You keep talking about 'when Harry gets back from Hamburg'."

"Yes?" said Ruth. "And…?"

"Oh" said Tariq, stopping and looking up "Oh, so then you _don't_ know...Oh."

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"I thought you were, you know, being tactical, throwing them off the….Oh."

"For heavens sake Tariq, what is it?"

"Harry isn't in Hamburg. Hasn't been for days. He's at Langley."

"Virginia?" said Ruth and Tariq nodded.

"Ask Judy, Sir Michael's secretary. Harry's been driving her nuts with emails about opera tickets and stuff. Did you know.." he said "he wants newspapers set aside because…"

Ruth finished the sentence for him.

"'Because reading online isn't the same'."

"Oh you knew that. Well, you and Judy should get on. She's got his schedule, if you're interested. Are you alright?" he added. "You look a bit pale?"

"I'm fine" she said "Just rushed my lunch".

Tariq returned to his screen, and she to hers but only one of them was working.

Ruth spent the afternoon in a daze. Fear, that's what had struck her when Tariq spoke, pure unadulterated fear. Harry wasn't over-worked or giving her some space, Harry was actively avoiding her.

She'd assumed once he came back, things would settle down, and they'd go back to being friends and colleagues, there for one another, whatever the world threw at them. Now she was seized by an appalling thought. What if this was the new status quo? She couldn't blame him if he treated her as an employee - she'd made her feelings quite clear on the matter - and she couldn't exactly call HR and request a transfer on the grounds that her boss wasn't sharing his inner life with her any more. Harry was a free man, he could do what he liked, it was really none of her concern.

She staggered through the day and made her way home where she swore at her ropey boiler, had a luke warm bath, cooked a dinner she couldn't eat, and after failing to watch TV, and unable to read, she crawled into bed and cried.

Harry didn't just leave her flat, he fled. The look on his face when she mentioned George, was it pain or anger? You could never tell with Harry. Maybe he couldn't stand the sight of her. Maybe he hated her. No. She rolled over for the umpteenth time. He didn't hate her. No, he was her Harry. He was just away, not gone for good.

She sat up and turned on the light.

_Her_ Harry?

She looked at her phone. One o' clock. She'd been there for over two hours, and still no closer to rest.

"If you don't get it out, you'll never sleep…" said a phantom wisdom haunting her.

One o' clock, this side of the pond meant eight o clock on the East Coast… She needed to know was did he hate her? She soon knew more than that.

The phone rang four times before he answered, and she understood two things instantly; one he was in a restaurant;

"Harry Pearce?"

and two; he wasn't alone.

"Oh for Gods sake Harry" drawled a woman in a broad Texan accent "Can't we just eat for once, turn the damned thing off."

"It's work" said Harry "Hello?"

"Ah, sorry Harry," stammered Ruth "it's not important, bye."

She got off the phone and doubled over as if the phantom had turned and punched in the stomach. It had been too much to hope that Harry would be sitting alone in a hotel room staring at his phone, willing her to call, but to find out that he was at a restaurant having dinner with another woman, who obviously knew him well enough to be familiar, was too much to bear.

Making her way to the bathroom she splashed water on her face, and tried to find some new resolve, some new energy she could use for rationalising the pain away.

She had no hold on Harry, she didn't want any, it would've never worked anyway. He was too overbearing, stubborn, set in his ways, in many ways they had nothing in common, so it was better this way, and at least now they could move on. And it would make life easier at work, it would be formal, yes, but polite, they were both well brought up, and one day they'd each meet someone and be happy for one another. That was how it would be, and was what she had always wanted. And it didn't mean they wouldn't be friends, of course they would, but they would respect each others distance. Of course she wasn't shocked or surprised. Regardless of his marital status it was clear Harry's preferred option was not and never had been celibacy. She knew about him and Julia and over the years she'd noticed him go to the opera one night and come in wearing the same shirt the next day, on more than one occasion.

Not since she'd come back, she thought, but that was none of her business.

She made some camomile tea and was preparing to stare blankly at the rolling news with the sound down, when she heard something from the bedroom. God, it was the phone… She raced down the hall.

"Hello?"

"You called?" said Harry, the background noise now suggesting he was in a car park. "Is everything okay?"

No. Who was that woman and what is she to you?

"It was nothing" said Ruth trying to stop her voice quavering "Sorry Harry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't. Are you sure there wasn't anything?"

Yes. Who was that woman and what is she to you?

"No, nothing really. Judy told me you were coming home on Sunday, I was just wondering how your ribs were holding up?"

"Could be worse, could be better. How's Sir Michael panning out?"

"Fine".

"Good good."

"And you, how's work?"

"Well I can't say, this isn't a secure line, despite what they tell me."

"They're our cousins not our friends." She said.

"Precisely…"

And then he asked about her work, and she about his hotel, and they updated each other on the political gossip, until after ten minutes of friendly inanities, a distant door opened and 'she' called his name.

"You've got to go."

"Yes. Main course. Nice to talk to you Ruth."

"You too. Goodbye Harry."

"Goodbye Ruth."

She'd lasted the distance, she hadn't disgraced herself, and for that she was truly grateful. He didn't hate her, she could tell from his tone, and the rest was none of her business.

"Oh and Ruth?"

"Yes Harry?"

"I'm not going to sleep with her." He said "I'm sure you don't care but in case…"

The wave of relief that rushed through Ruth was so powerful she dropped the phone. She scrabbled for it and held it up, breathless, heart racing.

"Ruth? Ruth?"

"Yes Harry, I'm here."

"I love you Ruth."

"I love you too Harry."

"Goodbye Ruth."

"Goodbye Harry."

And after he'd gone and she'd hung up the phone, Ruth didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, and so just to save time she did both.

(And if Ruth's analytical skills were a little more self aware, she'd have noticed she was humming this…..

.com/watch?v=O7h_LuVVoyg)


	5. Chapter 5

Sadly I don't own any of the characters of Spooks – that honour goes to Kudos and the BBC.

Well here it is! It's taken me much longer than I thought (I find moving people around, getting them from one space to another, or dealing with cups and things, really difficult) but it's been much more fun than I expected, (playing God with Harry and Ruth is bliss)

Although I'm not sure what to say when anyone asks me 'what did you do on your holiday?' I think you're the only one's who'd understand!

I'll be back with some thank you's, but I want to see if I can get this posted in under an hour. I'm rubbish at computers…

But I hope you enjoy it, and agree with me that re-watching box sets of Spooks is time well spent…

Chapter five

"Send up heat!" yelped Ruth ineffectually kicking the bottom of the radiator. She wasn't normally prone to fits of temper but sometimes inanimate objects had it coming, and she cursed as she limped over to the kettle

"And why don't you turn up?" she called to no-one in particular, checking her watch for the umpteenth time.

Stirring her tea, she looked out over the garden, the winter sun glinting on the frosted grass, the bare trees, their last few leaves hanging to the branches like yellow dusters, and the calm the view afforded her lasted a good ten seconds before she checked her watch again.

"Oh come on!"

Harry was due back that afternoon, and she knew he'd go straight from the airport to the office (he always did) had planned to be there when he arrived (she always was). But with the plethora of new security checks it had taken three days to get an appointment with an approved heating engineer and now she was trapped in waiting hell.

"Look, I just want them to narrow it down" she said to the woman at the call centre, whose weary tone suggested her entire life consisted of telling exasperated customers to stay put and wait. "You must be able to find out _where_ they are?" she said, a familiar noise bursting through in the background.

Buzz buzz…

"Never mind!" said Ruth "Thank you. They're here".

"Coming!" she called to the shadow at the door. "About bloody time," she muttered to herself.

She opened the door and froze, her eyes wide, her heart seized, in one of those moments that makes poets and angels necessary.

"Harry!"

"Ruth!" said Harry, similarly transfixed.

"What are you going here?"

"You weren't at the office."

"I booked the day off."

"And that's when I got worried."

Spooks never do anything on doorsteps, and so they stood and stared, and smiled at one another until Ruth realised he was waiting to be asked in. She stepped aside.

"Thank you"

They moved inside where the wonder held and they gazed at one another, and gazed at one another, and gazed at one another still, until Harry broke the silence.

"Miss me?" he said, eyebrows raised.

Ruth bounded towards him, mindful of his wounds, but driven by a need to cover his face with a hundred kisses, as if at any moment he could disappear.

She pulled back to see his eyes, and guided his face toward hers, kissing him on the mouth, a long slow kiss, gliding and sweet, slowly becoming more urgent and breathless, all the time just proprietary enough to turn Harry on. He slid his arms around her, and she could taste his smile.

"Are you laughing Harry?"

"I'm ridiculously happy Ruth" he said. "Ridiculously."

The laughter was replaced by an intense searching as he held her face in his hands. She tried to kiss him, but he held her back, prepared to watch, prepared to wait. For now was a moment Harry had looked forward to for years. Ruth had kissed Harry many times - after their meal on the cheek, twice on the dock on the worst day of his life, and a dozen times since he'd walked through the door.

And now, finally the moment had come.

Now Harry was going to kiss Ruth.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head, dipping down, hovering over her lips, tantalising her, determined not to rush….

Buzzzzzzz buzzzzzz.

"Don't answer it" said Harry not moving.

"I have to."

Buzz buzz buzz.

"No you don't" he said, edging closer, his breath touching her lips.

Ruth put her hands on his shoulders.

"I love you Harry. But…"

"But you love hot water more" sighed Harry, righting himself.

"Sorry" said Ruth, slipping out from under him. "Be right with you!" she called.

Harry slunk over to the sofa and sat head resting on his fists.

Ruth answered the door. The engineer was a cheerful young back man, bearing a tool case and multiple apologies and she welcomed him in. The door saved him from the full force of Harry's glare, but the tailwind got his attention.

"Y'alright Boss?" he asked.

"She's the boss" said Harry sullenly.

The young man looked at Harry, looked at Ruth, and then with an alacrity that almost restored Harry's faith in the British workman, refused Ruth's proffered cup of tea, and asked to see the patient.

When Ruth returned to Harry she tried not to smile.

"He's not going to work any faster just because you glare at him."

Harry's expression suggested he thought it was worth a try so she disappeared into the hall and returned wearing her coat.

"Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes" said Ruth holding out her hand. "Garden."

She led him through the kitchen, where the young man gave him an encouraging nod, and onto the patio, where they stood against the back wall, shielded from prying eyes by trees on two sides, the bricks warmed by the sun.

"I have seen the truth in a shaft of sunlight" said Harry, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Now where were we?" said Ruth with a smile.

"Tacky my love," said Harry "Very tacky."

And as some smiles reach the eyes, so some kisses start in the soul, and bracing himself against the wall with his left arm Harry leaned in and slowly and deliberately slid his mouth over hers. He tasted and teased her, gradually increasing the pressure before dropping away to feather kisses down her neck, returning to her lips, gently opening them encouraging her to respond as he increased the pressure of his body against hers, finishing with several slow strong thrusts of his tongue, before pulling back to breath.

Ruth struggled to retain her balance. "Jesus Harry" she said. "Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

"Learn?" said Harry, puzzled, but also rather pleased himself, "I didn't 'learn' anything Ruth. I've wanted to kiss you for a very long time, under lots of different circumstances. It just sort of came together."

He smiled.

"Missed one."

He kissed her again.

"What one was that?"

"Balcony. Just before I selfishly nearly got myself killed."

"Oh so that what that look meant." said Ruth.

"That's what that look _always_ means" said Harry.

Holding her hand, he closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun, a beatific smile on his lips

"You're watching me." Said Harry, not opening his eyes.

"I'm watching you breath." Said Ruth.

"Ah."

Ruth touched his face, and he turned toward her, and she looked into his eyes, searching for something.

"It's gone." she said.

"What's gone?"

"The sadness." She said. "It's not there any more."

"No." said Harry.

"What happened?"

"You called" he said, leaning in to kiss her. "You called when you didn't have to."

Ruth moved him back gently.

"No I mean what happened?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me, I was scared."

"You were scared.."

Harry paused, torn between not wanting to lie and not wanting to tell the truth, before not wanting to lie won out.

"I was terrified." He said, pulling away. Ruth held onto his hand and waited for him to say something. He didn't.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want me to."

"Ha!" laughed Harry, letting go of her hand. "Ruth you can get information out of bloody anywhere, what chance do you think I have of you _not_ getting this out of me?"

"We can talk later."

"I don't want a 'later' hanging over me." Said Harry, who knew a deferred sentence when he heard one. "There've been too many laters with us."

Ruth looked at him adoringly, and Harry found himself laughing in defeat.

"This is never going to go away is it?"

"Not as long as it has this hold on you, no."

Harry unhooked her arms from around his neck, and moved her several yards away.

"Something you said that night, well, it got me thinking." He said raking his hands over his scalp. "You see until then Ruth I'd pretty much believed all I had to do was find the space or time to convince you how much I loved you and then somehow everything would be alright. It had never occurred to me until that night that although you would undoubtedly be a good thing for me, I just might possibly be the worst thing in the world for you."

"I didn't say that."

"Not precisely. I…"he wavered, working out how little he could get away with "filled in the gaps with information of my own " he said.

She touched his arm, but he moved away and sat on the wall and began to find his hands fascinating.

She started towards him, but he waved her back. "I can't do this is if you – I need you over there" he said waiting until she'd retreated to the appropriate distance. "That night I told you I was at my club. Well what I didn't tell you was there was a woman there. Early forties, tall, elegant, beautiful, manicured, married to an Ambassador, you know the type.

"A Whitehall Wife." Said Ruth disliking her already. Harry nodded.

"Anyway we got talking early on in the evening, about music, about why you should always buy German music on Deutsche Grammophon that sort of thing …Then I had business to do, and she did whatever she had to do, but before she left, she came and found me, took me to one side and told me her husband was going to be out of the country for the next four months, her children were away at school, and if I wanted to finish our conversation I should call her. Then she gave me her card, and just to seal the deal, she leaned in and whispered in my ear that she'd already been security cleared so that should save me a lot of time and fuss."

Harry finally looked at Ruth.

"The thing is Ruth, I knew exactly what she wanted."

"I think I've a fair idea what she wanted too." huffed Ruth.

"No you don't, not that!" said Harry "Not sex. I mean it involves sex, but that's _my_ reward, it's not what she wants."

He started to pace, willing her to understand.

"I'm not a good looking man Ruth, and please don't" he said, before she could demur "I'm being objective, not insecure. I'm not a good looking man but I know I have other qualities. I'm an alpha male, I have charisma. I'm good at being charge. Provided I'm not standing next to you I pass for intelligent. I'm not a hedge fund manager but I'm not exactly poor. And I've got a title which doesn't hurt. And capping it all, next to the Sebastian's and Timothy's in the Foreign Office, I pass muster as a Bad Boy."

He threw his shoulders back, his physical presence changing.

"Not afraid of violence, not bound by the rules, something of the night about me."

He withdrew to the wall.

"She was vain and shallow and frightened and bored and I knew exactly what she wanted. But you…?"

He shrugged, bewildered.

"You loathe violence, you don't give a fig for social status, you're smarter than I am, and if you had to chose between a million pounds or the life of a cat, then that's one bloody lucky cat that's all I can say!"

He sunk his head in his hands and Ruth started towards him.

"Please don't. And there's George" he said. "Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything bad, but I didn't have to be a spook to notice he was tall dark and handsome, a conspicuously good father, and what did he do for a living? He healed people! The perfect Anti-Me. No wonder you were relaxed. So anyway," he said before she could interrupt "I decided if I truly cared about you, and was in any way an honourable man, then I should leave you well alone. That's why I left, and sent all my stuff through Judy."

Ruth took his face in her hands.

"Would it help if I said I loved you now more than I ever had?"

"Yes." said Harry "But _why_?"

Before Ruth could answer the engineer tapped on the window and gave her a cheerful thumbs up.

"Stay there." she said.

Despite the intensity of her discussion with Harry, Ruth thanked the engineer profusely and once he'd gone, touched her hot radiators and nearly did a dance. She tapped on the window.

"Come on in, the temperature's lovely." She said taking off her coat.

Harry, came in, and sat on the kitchen table. Ruth realised he was waiting.

"How are you feeling?"

"Nervous and edgy" he said "And no, the irony is not lost on me."

Ruth made him take off his coat and then she parked herself in front of him, put his arms around her waist, and linked her hands behind his neck.

"How do I love thee Harry Pearce, let me count the ways…?"

She kissed him.

"First, well, we're more alike than you think Harry."

Harry looked doubtful.

"Tell me did you want to be knighted?"

"God no."

"You loath establishment one up-man-ship almost as much as you loath politicians."

"Almost" said Harry, cheering up slightly.

"And if you wanted money, you'd leave the service and join some private security firm."

"The Halliburton Express."

"Exactly. And away from your sterling moral character, I don't know if you've noticed Harry, but I don't do well in the modern world."

Harry tried hard not to look like he'd just been called old.

"And no, I didn't just call you old." Said Ruth. "Even when I was at University, I couldn't understand people getting drunk, and going to parties, when they could be learning Coptic, or reading John Donne. I find popular culture noisy and shrill and drunk on sensation. And do you want to know the best thing about being dead? No dinner parties. No more being stuck on the spare chair surrounded by faux ironic conversations, masking that peculiarly English kind of loneliness. The fear of dying without ever having loved something greater than themselves. I love you because you care Harry. Even running off like an idiot into a blast zone – you did it because you cared. I've nearly lost you twice Harry. It's not going to happen again."

"I've done bad things Ruth" said Harry, the weight pressing on his soul "Things I'd despise another man for doing."

"You've done good things too" said Ruth "More light than dark. You're a good man Harry Pearce."

Harry's eyes were wet, his breathing unsteady.

"What about George" he said. "What if he were alive?"

"If George were alive I wouldn't be here." She said and his face fell. "But if I hadn't been in love with you, I'd have never have met George. The circle starts and ends here Harry, it always has."

Harry nodded.

"And work?"

"Well" she said "They've been gossiping about us sleeping together."

"Yes?"

"And in an hour or so it'll be true." She started playing with the back of his neck. "The rest we'll let crinkle out."

Harry stood and wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you."

"And you know that thing you do when you lean in and whisper in my ear…"

"Yes" said Harry.

"Very sexy."

"Oh really?" he whispered, enjoying himself.

Ruth took his hand and began leading him towards the bedroom but Harry stopped.

"You do know" he said, touching his left side "I'm not exactly match fit?"

"Oh Harry" said Ruth, "I'm the best analyst you know. I'll work something out."

She opened the door. Harry followed her in.

"Ridiculously happy Ruth" he said. "Ridiculously."

(Ta da! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it, and agree with me that _now_ they're going to be happy. And hey, they've done marriage, and now sex – now they've got all the fun of dating to look forward to. Go Harry! Go Ruth!)


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